


foreign on the tongue

by bi_magic



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: I love them so much??, shows up a year late with starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 11:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_magic/pseuds/bi_magic
Summary: harry tells uma he loves her three times. she never quite knows how to respond, until she does.





	foreign on the tongue

**Author's Note:**

> idk i wrote this as a drabble thing for a harry i wrote with when i was rping as uma (if any of yall rp i was islecrowned ayo), but i'm actually pretty pleased with how it came out eventually. it's been sitting in my drawer for a while, so yeah. hope u guys enjoy it, make sure to leave kudos or a comment if you do ! xx

wind shrieks outside, and harry tells her he loves her.

she's mopping the floor, he's cleaning the tables. her mother has left her to close the restaurant, and he stayed with her. why does he always stay?

it's dark outside, a moonless night, and wind blows harshly, sips in through the walls. uma shudders.

"uma," she hears his voice, way closer than she would have expected. long fingers close around her hip bone, but she does not tense. she knows his touch, his voice in her ear, his breath on her neck. this is nothing unusual. touch and closeness are human needs. and even they are only human, after all.

she leans back into him ever slightly, almost unaware of her own actions. his heart beating behind her is like a magnet. he speaks again, then, in a whisper, a breath, almost a plea - she's never heard him plead - and the words ring in her ears, almost foreign.

"I love you," the air he exhales brushes the shell of her ear, and unconsciously, she leans further into his chest. he's never said that before. he's never said anything like that before.

she can't say she's surprised - the way he moves around her is... different. they have established a sort of comfort with one another that isn't quite usual on the isle. they've talked about things, hugged, kissed. they aren't like everyone else. what they have isn't like what other people do. she can almost say she's felt it coming, in a way. like you would a storm.

she closes her eyes and her head rolls back onto his shoulder. she can feel him smile against her hair (she knows that smile and it's too soft to belong on this wretched island), and then he picks her up, fingers tight on her waist, and sits her on a clean table.

"I'll finish up, yeah?" he tells her, and he has that look in his eyes that always makes her give in. she knows that whatever she says now, he won't let her work. it's a lost battle. so she sits and stays silent, watching his every movement as he cleans her mother's restaurant. because he's her friend. because he loves her.

"thanks, harry," she says, eyes closed. she can feel him turn to her and she knows she's too open now, she knows she should hide away, but she can't help the smile on her face.

\----

sun shines outside, and harry tells her he loves her.

they're sitting on the docks, legs dangling above the greenish sea below. it's sunrise.

they watch as the sky paints with pinks and golds, and for the first time in her life, uma thinks she might understand tenderness. harry sits beside her, his knee touching her, and she can fee his eyes on her but she watches the sun. there are so few gentle moments in life.

"I love you," he says, quiet and private but unashamed. he doesn't move his gaze from her. he hardly even blinks.

she turns her head to him slowly, stares into his eyes for what seems like the longest moment. she doesn't know. it might've been a second.

it's weird to see him like this, defenses down, hat placed on his lap, his hook on the floor beside him. and the way he looks in the light of the sun as it slowly climbs in the sky; uma has never seen real art, but she doesn't think anything could top this. she doesn't think there's a greater masterpiece.

if she ever admitted that out loud, she would have to drown herself.

maybe there is something there. she thinks maybe she's always known. but she is not a princess, and he is not a prince, and this isn't auradon. she is a waitress, a pirate captain, the daughter of the infamous sea witch. and harry? he's a pirate. and on the isle of the lost there is no room for words like the ones he likes to say to her. words that could never leave her own mouth, not ever. she is a soul hardened. a villain.

but he still loves. someone like harry loves her.

it's hard to wrap her hand around that.

she raises a hand and ruffles his dark hair. his eyes fall shut, a purring kitten. he looks adorable. after a moment, her hands slides down and rests on his back. he's warm, like always. she leaves it there for a long time.

when the sun is fully in the sky, they both stand, achingly slow, and walk away. moments like these pass too quickly.

\----

thunder rolls outside, and harry tells her he loves her.

they're inside her chambers at the ship, and a storm is roaring around them. she is looking out the small window as the sea moves reletnlessly, ruthlessly, as though trying to escape a cage. just like her.

after a few minutes of staring, she turns and walks towards him. the sensation of his eyes on her is, and always has been, like an itch she couldn't scratch, but could always feel. he'd been looking at her for a while now.

"what?" she asks, head tilted to the side, eyebrows raised. he takes his hat off and half kneels, in an attempt to be eye to eye with her (it's always been frustrating to be this much shorter than her first mate). his eyes are wide, his lips plush and ever so tempting (he always tastes like sea salt and sweat and metal and she never tires of it), and then he opens his mouth.

"I love you," he tells her, loud and clear, and when he rises to his usual height and leans closer, she can almost feel his blood pump in his veins, hot, violent. just like him. a volcano just waiting to burst.

his hand cups her cheek, and his smile is like a hook cast into her gut. she steps closer. their breaths mingle together, hot, always hot. after some time (she could not tell; all she knew was that it could have been years and it still wouldn't have been enough), he pulls away and sits down on her bed. she positions herself on his lap, and he smiles at her again. it pulls at her insides like a fishing rod. she has no control.

"I love you," it's her that says it this time, in a small, almost unsure whisper, and the words taste weird in her mouth, like a dead language, heavy on her tongue. she never meant - it's that smile. it's always that smile.

he stares.

"uma," it seems the only thing he can say. "uma, uma, uma."

she closes her eyes. the sounds of the storm outside have silenced; all she can hear is his voice, murmuring her name over and over, like a prayer for which he has no words, lips moving against her neck in a repeated pattern. uma. uma.

"harry." she answers. she doesn't know what else to say.

it seems to satisfy him, and he kisses her.

as she swallows down the throaty sounds he makes, the harsh beat-beat-beating of his heart, the tight grip of his hands on her waist, the taste of ocean and adventure and harry - she thinks she might start saying those words more often.


End file.
